


Willing to pay

by aellisif



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Mech Preg (Transformers), Other, Slave coding, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aellisif/pseuds/aellisif
Summary: When Optimus is informed that Megatron has decided to take him as his personal slave, it comes as no great surprise. It comes as no surprise either that the first thing to happen is that Optimus’ carrier protocols are turned on. Megatron has won the war, he will make his triumph known, and Optimus’ only hope is that by complying with Megatron’s demands for his own frame, he might spare his Autobots the same fate.It turns out that Megatron does indeed have some very specific demands on Optimus’ frame. Demands that Optimus could not ever have expected.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 26
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While I am waiting for my beta to finish c. 4 of Prime Performance, have a not-beta-read snippet of a fic that I would like to write, but have at present not the time nor the inclination to properly develop, and that, despite first impressions, does not include dub-con or non-con. Rated M for topics and threats and the second chapter that I will post once I can get over being embarrassed writing about robots having sex …

Optimus Prime was the second prisoner to be fetched from the brig to be prepared for his new role in the Decepticon Empire. He held his helm high and his steps calm and assured as he was led past the other cells, in which he and the rest of the Autobots had spent the last three months since Megatron’s victory. They had not left them in all that time; even the repairs had been carried out inside the cells, especially after their third attempt at escape had almost succeeded. After that, they had all been knocked into stasis, their comms had been disabled and their cells had been outfitted with devices that scrambled even normal speech, so it became impossible to communicate with anyone.

Ratchet had been the first to be brought upstairs, something Optimus had expected. He was, after all, a very skilled medic and the Decepticons had always been eager to get their servos on him. He hadn’t been particularly concerned about Ratchet either, beyond the natural concern for knowing him to be alone amongst Decepticons. Ratchet was, in one word, too _useful_ to hurt, and Megatron was no fool.

The same could not be said about Optimus. Of course, he could be useful in his own way, skilled warrior and tactitian that he was. But Megatron would hardly want to make use of those particular skills. No, Optimus’ usefulness for Megatron was restricted to being paraded about as a trophy, a visible, undeniable sign of his victory, and Optimus was only surprised it had taken Megatron three months to get around to doing something about it.

His future did not look bright. He had accepted it, had accepted the possible outcomes of his defeat as much as he could, had prepared himself even for the scenarios that hardly bore thinking about, and his only hope was that he would be able to spare his Autobots some of the torment he was likely to suffer. They all knew they were to be turned into slaves in the new Decepticon Empire, they had received that piece of information pretty much right at the start. After that, however, little else had reached their audials, and the last three months had been spent in a kind of suspense that was hard to take. Even Optimus could not help falling victim to his fears during the dark hours of the night, wondering what Megatron had in store for them and why he had chosen to leave them alone so far. They were there, in his brig, helpless and unable to communicate, and yet the Decepticons did little more than taunt them with their defeat and occasionally hit them when they thought an Autobot was getting too feisty. All things considered, though, they were showing considerable restraint, and that was exactly what had Optimus almost quaking with fear. He knew how deep their anger and hatred ran; understood, even, where it originated from; but they had always enjoyed inflicting pain on the Autobots and that they were refraining from doing so now, when they had them at their complete mercy, did not bode well. Something was going on, something was brewing underneath the surface, and Optimus despised the conclusion he had reached: That they were merely given a period of respite before their true punishment began, continuous torture and torment at the servos of their masters. The only reason they were given said respite before they were handed over to whoever wished to own them was, in all probability, that Megatron had been busy with other things than figuring out who to reward with whom, and also wished to prolong the torture the wait was inflicting.

For Optimus, this wait was going to be over starting today. He was the first to be chosen as a personal slave and by Megatron himself. If fate was kind, submitting to the leader of the Decepticons and complying with his every desire might give him the means to protect his Autobots. What happened to his own frame did not matter, had not mattered in a long time. He would let Megatron have his way with him, carry his sparklets if that was what Megatron desired, endure whatever cruelties Megatron had in store for him, if only that would save his Autobots from suffering the same fate at Decepticon servos.

He was resolved, yet that did nothing to stop his spark from turning over in his chest at what awaited him. The humiliation, the pain, he would have to bear it and he would bear it. It was the prospect of having to watch his Autobots suffer the same that made him wonder if he shouldn’t simply have given them all the order to offline themselves while they still could. And yet, he couldn’t. As long as they functioned, there was the hope that they might escape, much like Megatron and many of his Decepticons had escaped their masters. Optimus would wait, he would endure and he would make sure to protect his Autobots from as much as he could while they waited for their chance.

And yet, walking past their cells, seeing them all come to the bars and stare at him with varying expressions of fear, apprehension and sorrow, he had a hard time presenting his façade of strength and calm, and he was almost glad when Soundwave led him into the lift that took them up.

* * *

Ratchet was already waiting for him in the medbay, and Optimus found himself relaxing involuntarily at the sight of his medic, even as he noticed how almost lifeless Ratchet seemed. Soundwave came inside with him, of course, but Optimus found he hardly cared. Instead he brushed a servo over Ratchet’s arm.

“Have they been treating you well?” he asked quietly and Ratchet managed half a smile.

“Unless you count them waking me up at all odd hours to fix some damage they have inflicted upon themselves, yes.” The smile vanished. “Optimus, I – Megatron has instructed me -”

Optimus gripped his arm, feeling the tremors running through it, and sought Ratchet’s optics. “It is alright, Ratchet,” he said. “I am prepared.”

Ratchet looked angry and the most helpless Optimus had ever seen him. “No, you aren’t. Optimus, I am to install a tracking device in you, along with some code that Megatron had written specifically for you.”

His fuel ran cold, but Optimus merely inclined his helm. “Slave coding. I expected as much. It is alright, Ratchet.”

“It is not.” Ratchet refused to meet his optics. “Megatron has also ordered me to re-activate your carrier protocols.”

It was harder to speak this time, but Optimus repeated, gently, “It is alright. Do what you were told to do. I would not have you suffer for my sake.”

Soundwave remained standing still and silent by the door as Optimus lay down on the berth and looked at him; he wanted to make sure Megatron would know that he had complied, that he had not resisted in the least.

Ratchet stared at him for another long moment, more miserable than he had ever been. Finally he cleared his intake. “Right. I’ll – repairs first. You are to be in excellent condition when you -” He fell silent and started scanning Optimus instead.

He stared at the ceiling and wondered why his spark had pulsed in pain when Ratchet mentioned his carrier protocols. It was not unexpected. Megatron could hardly devise any way that showed his victory more clearly than turning Optimus into a breeding machine for him. Was it the knowledge that if Megatron set the example, many of his Decepticons would find no fault in following him? Yes, most probably that was it. But it was bitter, very bitter, to be proven right. Optimus himself had always respected Megatron, his skills, his brilliant mind. He had thought that Megatron respected him as well, in his own twisted way. Apparently he had been wrong about that.

“Optimus -” Ratchet said, perhaps guessing at his thoughts, and Optimus lifted his helm and looked at him. “I am sorry,” Ratchet whispered. “I am – you need to open your chestplates so I can check over your refineries.”

His – oh. Yes, of course. Optimus transformed his chestplates away and kept staring at the ceiling while Ratchet gently examinated the energon refineries his Matrix-shaped frame came with, trying to touch the soft protoform as little as possible. Optimus had never spent much time thinking about them; had never used them, either. Refined energon was for sparklets and there had never been time to even think about sparklets since he had woken in this frame. He knew they were supposed to grow and swell once the right command was sent, but at present they were small, barely noticeable mounds underneath his chestplates, so small that only a medic like Ratchet really knew they were even there.

From there, Ratchet checked over every part of his frame with a dedication he hadn’t been able to show in a long time. Optimus transformed armour out of the way, let him at intimate cabling and behind more intimate panels, stood up, lay down, as Ratchet asked. Soundwave did not move once from his post by the door during the whole time. It bothered Optimus at first, until he reminded himself that if it pleased Megatron, Optimus might just walk around with his energon refineries on full display starting from today.

The day was almost over by the time Ratchet had finished applying new paint and reached the last stage of the process. His expression, mostly professional until now, turned into a grimace of pain. “I need to upload the code now, Optimus.”

Without a word, Optimus held out his arm and opened the panel covering his medical port. Ratchet stared at it, utterly wretched.

“There is no point in deliberating,” Optimus said softly even as his tanks roiled and he was afraid he would purge the fuel Ratchet had given him earlier. “I will not hold it against you.”

Ratchet jacked in, his optics sparking with fury and pain. Optimus felt the code take effect; felt his weapons systems disable, knew that he would, from now on, not be able to hurt anyone carrying a Decepticon emblem. There were other lines of code that he could not bring himself to examine, lines that probably addressed his future relationship to Megatron, what he would and would not be allowed to do, perhaps even a line that would render him unable to resist Megatron’s orders. He did not know and while he knew it would be better to be prepared, he could not bring himself to do it right now. He would find out soon enough, he guessed.

Ratchet stepped back and removed the jack, his optics still sparking. “We’re done,” he said, his voice hollow.

Soundwave stepped forward and beckoned, and Optimus got up from the berth, already feeling a stranger in his own frame. He still caught Ratchet’s optics again and forced himself to smile. “As long as we function, there is hope,” he told him. Ratchet made a strange sound, something between a laugh and a sob.

“For what it’s worth, Optimus, I’m sorry.”

Soundwave beckoned again. Optimus inclined his helm. “Take care of yourself, Ratchet. We still need you.”

Then he followed Soundwave out.

* * *

All things considered, Optimus had expected Megatron’s quarters to be more luxurious. He did not even know why, but it still came as a surprise when Soundwave led him into the office and there was only Megatron behind a big desk and two chairs and some shelves with datapads. Much like Optimus’ own office had looked like.

Megatron did not even look up when Soundwave deposited Optimus in front of the desk in all his shining new glory and then disappeared almost soundlessly through a door into what had to be the rest of the quarters. He kept reading and Optimus stood, silent, motionless, until the silence was broken by Megatron’s voice.

“You’ve been repaired?”

“Yes,” Optimus replied, trying to gauge whether or not the newly installed code compelled him to answer. He could not tell, but then again, this was a question he had no reason to refuse answering.

Megatron hummed. “Code was installed?”

“Yes.” No, there was no compulsion to answer, Optimus decided, because he had waited a moment before answering. He was not sure whether that was good or bad. After all, Megatron might not want the code to compel him to answer. He might enjoy wringing his answers from Optimus by other means.

“Your carrier protocols have been turned on?” Megatron inquired, attention still mostly on the datapad in front of him.

“Yes,” Optimus answered quietly, not quite trusting his voice not to fail him, and Megatron grunted and finally put the datapad down.

For a moment, they stared at one another, then Megatron abruptly got up. “Good. Optimus Prime, I have claimed you as my personal slave. The code will prevent you from bringing me or any Decepticon to harm, but I also expect you to serve me to the best of your abilities and fulfil the duties I shall give you without questions or complaints. If you comply, your functioning will be as comfortable as I can make it. If not, I will find ways to make you regret it.”

Optimus inclined his helm. Megatron stared at him for another long moment from narrowed red optics, then turned around suddenly and barked, “Soundwave!”

He turned back to Optimus, and he was surprised to find a new kind of fire burning in those red optics. “I have chosen you out of all the Autobots, Prime, for a duty that I would entrust few of my Decepticons with. Do not make me regret it,” he grit out and Optimus, taken aback, was about to ask what that duty entailed when the door slid aside and Soundwave entered, carrying -

Optimus reset his optics, but the image remained the same. Soundwave was carrying a sparklet on his arms, small, barely past emergence. It had not even developed any armour yet, it was all protoform.

Silently, Soundwave handed the little thing over to Megatron, and the movement seemed to disturb it, because it unshuttered its optics – red – and uttered a quiet cheep.

“Hush,” Megatron murmured, gently rocking it. “Hush, bitlet.”

The sparklet calmed immediately, optics shuttering. Optimus remained still as a statue when Megatron turned to him, processor churning with questions and disbelief. A sparklet. How had Megatron of all bots come by a sparklet?

Red optics met his, cool, distant. “His designation is Elattoma. You will take on the role of his carrier, protect him, feed him and care for him.”

It was only with the greatest exertion of control that Optimus stopped his optics from cycling wide. Megatron growled at him when he did not react, and Optimus hastily cleared his intake. “I do not understand -”

“What is there to understand? You have inbuilt energon refineries, you are an Autobot, you are a strong and capable warrior. The bitlet needs care, he needs properly refined energon, and he needs protection from those that would offline my heir. You meet all of the requirements.”

Optimus almost reeled physically, less at the bark, more at the words. “What?” he managed to get out, staring at the sparklet. _Megatron’s_ sparklet, by the sound of things. How had they missed that Megatron had a sparklet? Where was the original carrier? Who was the original carrier?

“I am to be his substitute carrier?” It was clear it was Megatron’s – the colours, the shape of his helm, his frame, everything gave it away. But what on Cybertron was Megatron _thinking,_ giving it to Optimus to care for? He was a warframe, a warrior, the Prime! Not a carer! “But I thought -”

He stopped himself, but Megatron was already narrowing his optics at him. “You thought what, Prime?”

Optimus gathered himself and raised his optics. “I thought you wished for me to carry your sparklets.”

Megatron stared at him before he barked out a laugh. “In your recharge fluxes, Prime! I have as little desire to interface with you as you have to interface with me!”

Every word only confused Optimus more. “Then why have me repaired? Why make me your personal slave? Why turn my carrier protocols back on?”

An impatient gesture. “I am told your energon refineries won’t work without those blasted protocols being online.”

Optimus almost shivered as the leaden fear that had sat in his tanks since Soundwave came to the prison cells this morning seemed to disappear. “You requested me as your personal slave simply for the purpose of caring for your sparklet?”

Red optics met his, steely. “If you truly wish to become my berthwarmer, I might consider the offer. Unless that is the case, I suggest you start your duties by finding the command to get your refineries working. He will wake soon and will be very hungry.”

Optimus stared at the vulnerable little thing. “Megatron, what is this? You cannot tell me that – you have me at your complete mercy, me and all of my Autobots, and you are telling me that all you expect me to do is care for your sparklet?”

The red optics narrowed. “Are you disappointed I have no intention of facing you through the berth?”

“No!” It was half a cry of confusion. “But this is – you had my weapons systems disabled!”

Megatron scoffed. “They are and will remain so, unless and until Elattoma is threatened, at which point they will re-enable to help you protect him.”

Optimus reset his optics. “What?”

Megatron sneered. “There is little point in appointing a bodyguard who cannot defend his charge! Shockwave was kind enough to write some appropriate code. Your weapons systems will stay disabled unless your risk evaluation detects a threat to Elattoma. I believe, Prime, that that is more than fair.”

“But why me?” Optimus could not remember another occasion which had thrown him so badly. Of course he was relieved, and yet, a whole host of other fears took hold of him. “I know nothing about sparklets!”

Megatron continued staring at him. “And do you believe any of my Decepticons does?“

The answer to that was so blatantly obvious that Optimus did not even bother answering. Instead he forced himself to take a deep vent and meet Megatron’s optics. “Three months, Megatron, three months you have kept us all in your brig and had your soldiers taunt us with the prospect of becoming your slaves.”

An optic ridge rose. “Slave, Optimus Prime, is not a synonym for ‘pleasurebot’, regardless of how some may have interpreted it.”

“So you will make me care for – Elattoma.” It took some effort, but in the end, the sparklet had not chosen to be created as Megatron’s. “Ratchet will work as your medic. What about the rest of my Autobots? Will they, too, get off as lightly as the two of us are apparently getting off?”

Megatron stared at him for another few long moments. Finally he snarled. “What kind of glitch do you take me to be, Optimus Prime? Do you think I would waste the valuable resources your Autobots represent, their _skills,_ for the sexual gratification of my officers? When we have a whole planet to rebuild and every pair of servos is needed? Do you think I am ignorant to how it will affect your Autobots’ performance if they are abused by their new masters? If my officers want an overload, they can go get it from one of their fellow Decepticons like they did during the whole war!”

Optimus stared back at him, at a loss for words. Megatron glowered, his arms tightening unconsciously around the recharging sparklet. “Moreover, do you think I would ever be able to forget how this whole war started? Optimus Prime, I have never forgotten my origins and where I came from. Which leaves me with two choices: I can either offline every single Autobot and build a society with only my Decepticons, or I can find a way to make your Autobots help the reconstruction.”

“By making them slaves? We want Cybertron rebuilt as much as you, Megatron!”

“You would never trust us enough to work together efficiently!” Megatron bellowed. “And while I can restrain myself for the sake of our planet, I doubt all of my officers will be similarly inclined! Your Autobots are to be slaves, but they are to be slaves in the same way you and Ratchet are. They will answer to me and me alone, incapable of hurting Decepticons unless attacked and incapable of sabotaging the reconstruction, but otherwise to be left alone!”

He would have continued yelling, no doubt, but Optimus saw the sparklet move and realised the loud noises had woken it before Megatron’s last words had stopped echoing in the room. Megatron’s attention was immediately turned towards the little thing, his voice turned to a low, rumbling growl. “Hush, hush, little one. Prime, come here.”

Optimus stepped forward and found himself with an armful of sparklet before he had time to protest. His processor was whirling, but he was distracted by the warm weight against his chassis.

“Start your refineries,” Megatron said shortly and nodded to Soundwave. “A berth has been prepared for you in his room. If you know what is good for you, you will stay there and make sure he doesn’t disturb me.”

Optimus stared down at the red optics gazing up at him. “Megatron -”

“I am willing to show mercy for the sake of Cybertron, Prime, but my patience only lasts so long. If you prefer, I can have Shockwave alter the code, add a line or two that’ll make you crave my touch whether you want it or not. Once I have sparked you, those refineries will start working anyway.”

Optimus looked down at Elattoma, then up at Megatron. “I will need some more energon if I am to provide for him as well.”

Megatron smirked. “Wise decision, Prime. Soundwave will see to it. Now off. I have work to do.”

* * *

Finding the right command to make his refineries start working turned out to be easy. Actually feeding the sparklet was excruciatingly painful. He was so hungry that he simply kept suckling, no matter whether energon was flowing or not, and Optimus’ refineries, so recently started, could not keep up with the demand. Optimus tried to detach Elattoma several times to give himself some relief, only to find that this caused the sparklet to start trilling desperately. In the end, he simply let Elattoma suckle until he fell back into recharge and stared into the darkness of the room as he held him and tried to ignore the raw pain from his nozzles.

He finally managed to put together the pieces of the puzzle. Why they had been kept in the brig for so long without suffering much in the way of abuse. Megatron had needed time for Shockwave to prepare the code. It had been neither mercy nor torture, it had simply been necessary. Megatron wanted the Autobots, their skills and their contribution, but he wanted both on his own terms. For that, he was willing to curb his own officers’ and soldiers’ baser desires. He was not willing to run the risk of the Autobots interfering with his visions for the new Cybertron. One part of the code was meant to ensure that they all, every single one of them, would be unable to refuse or sabotage the tasks they were given. Another part rendered them unable to so much as slap a Decepticon unless attacked first. Weapons systems would only be re-enabled in case of life-threatening injury.

The last part gave Megatron, and Megatron alone, the right to provide them with tasks.

Optimus’ own tasks comprised a short list. Nourish Elattoma. See to Elattoma’s needs. Protect Elattoma under all circumstances.

He could feel the effects of the code when the sparklet cried. He found himself unable to leave the room and could barely even manage to turn his back on him. No matter Optimus’ own priorities, caring for Elattoma had now taken precedence over everything, even over taking care of his Autobots.

Optimus stared into the darkness and did not know what to feel. This was so, so much better than what he had feared and yet, the humiliation was undeniable. He might not have been turned into a breeding machine for Megatron, but he had been turned into a feeding machine for Megatron’s sparkling. He could not help but feel that this was just another kind of degradation. He was the Prime, he carried the Matrix of Leadership and yet, his role in the rebuilding of their planet was to be to keep Megatron’s sparkling out of the way so Megatron could do the work?

Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the small being nestled against him. Elattoma was not to be blamed, of course, he had not chosen to be created or to be looked after by Optimus, and yet, Optimus could not help resent the task he had been given. Optimus had never thought about having sparklets, let alone wanted one. Had not even had much opportunity to interact with them, rare as they had been even before the war. He could see how bots might take a liking to them, adore them, even; objectively speaking, Elattoma was beautiful and vulnerable, and Optimus reacted to him in much the same way he reacted to everyone weaker than him, with a gentle protectiveness. But to be put in charge of such a fragile being without even being asked? It frightened him. So did the trilling and the squirming and basically anything Elattoma did. Optimus had not been built for this, inbuilt refineries or not! He knew nothing about how to care for a sparklet, let alone protect it, and Elattoma was even more fragile than the humans! He did not know either how to keep the little one from starving, because his refineries were clearly not producing enough energon to keep up with his appetite.

He was – Optimus was out of his depth, and not even the Matrix could help him with this. And his new coding aside, Optimus _wanted_ to keep Elattoma save, if only because he was most likely the first sparklet in millions of years.

His optics started sparking at the memory of the spark-wrenching trills the little one had made earlier. What was Megatron _thinking,_ handing this helpless, hapless sparklet over to someone who was as much made for war as Megatron himself? Where was the carrier? Why couldn’t he take care of his sparklet?

When Soundwave had fetched him from the brig just a day earlier, Optimus had been willing to pay any price Megatron might ask for his Autobots’ relative safety that he could imagine. He had not imagined that this was the price he would be made to pay. It wasn’t even that he was unwilling; all things considered, if Megatron actually kept his word, the Autobots would be slaves, but would at least not be at the complete mercy of the Decepticons.

It was just that Optimus was fairly sure this was a price he could not pay, regardless of his willingness to deliver.

* * *

“Megatron?”

He shot up, battle protocols onlining and cannon powering up before he had fully regained consciousness.

“No!”

The sound of an ion blaster transforming almost triggered a reply in the form of fusion cannon blast, but Megatron’s processor caught up with the image in front of him before he could fire. Prime was staring at him from wide optics, mask closed and the second arm protectively cradled around Elattoma.

Megatron cut power to the fusion cannon so quickly it stung. The moment it was turned off, the ion blaster disappeared and Optimus stared at his servo in silence. Megatron permitted himself a smirk. He would have to reward Shockwave for this bit of code.

“What is it?” he asked instead, focusing his attention on Elattoma. He was apparently still in recharge and also still attached to Prime’s left refinery. Even from across the room, Megatron could see that he was suckling every now and then, and that Prime winced when he did.

He did not try to detach the sparklet, though. Good. Elattoma needed all the energon Prime could produce. Hook had delayed emergence for as long as he could while Shockwave worked around the clock to finish the code, and they had still had to feed Elattoma for two whole days with the best energon they had. It had upset his tanks, hurt him, and Megatron had spent those two days carrying his heir around and trying everything anyone could think of to relieve the pain, to no avail.

It was a relief to know that his little one was now getting the refined energon he really needed and that someone Megatron could trust was looking after him. Optimus Prime would never hurt a sparklet, whether it was Megatron’s or not. Whether he himself was made to look after him or not. He might even have agreed if Megatron had asked, but he had been unwilling to take the risk. They had all known that Elattoma would need more than the Decepticons could provide from the moment Megatron realised he was carrying, and Prime was the only one on either side with energon refineries. Back in the old days, that wouldn’t have been an issue; sparkling-grade energon could be bought or another bot be paid for nursing Elattoma. Now, they were without options, and Megatron would not, could not risk Elattoma’s survival on Prime trying to oppose him on the slave question. He had already watered the conditions down as much as he could without risking mutiny; many Decepticons wanted revenge for all they had been made to suffer, and they did not care who they took it out on. Without Elattoma’s untimely conception, Megatron would have been in a much worse position for negotiating better terms on behalf of the Autobots. However, Megatron had been sparked in the course of the Decepticon victory celebration. At least ten different Decepticons were potential sires. None of them wanted to lose the right to claim Megatron’s sparklet as theirs. So when Megatron confronted them with the unpalatable reality of needing Autobot help to rebuild Cybertron, they had been willing to compromise, and willing to rein others in as well. He could not risk Prime crossing him by stating his own conditions for looking after Elattoma. Especially not since that particular aspect had been received with more schadenfreude and glee than Megatron could have imagined. The potential sires positively delighted in the prospect of Prime being made to care for their sparklet. The mighty Prime, carrier of the Matrix of Leadership, nothing more than an energon dispenser for a Decepticon sparklet.

An energon dispenser looking at him cautiously, still half poised to flee the room and follow his third order, protect Elattoma at all costs.

“Well?” Megatron demanded, impatient and Prime came forward.

“Megatron, I -” He looked at the floor, then up again. “I need help with him,” he said simply. “My refineries are not producing enough energon, or he is simply too starved for me to keep up. I need help.”

Megatron’s tank lurched. “What do you mean, you cannot produce enough energon? What are these things for?” he snarled and Prime winced again when Megatron gestured at the exposed refinery.

“I have never used them before, not even once. I do not know if and how I can increase production. Ratchet might know.”

Megatron stared at him. “So you want to speak to him.”

He had disabled communication between the Autobots on purpose, unwilling to give them a chance to make plans. He had planned to continue doing so, unless cooperation was necessary to help the rebuilding process. He had even prepared a code line to that effect already, and the only reason he hadn’t yet inserted it into Prime’s task list was that there were currently only two Autobots out of the brig.

However, Prime was not lying to him. Now that he was close enough, Megatron could feel the hunger in Elattoma’s field. He was not getting enough energon to satisfy him.

Megatron stared at them and then sank back into his chair, waving a hand. “I will have Soundwave take you to the medbay. Now out, I have work to do.”

Prime hesitated, for only a moment before he returned to door and disappeared into the rest of Megatron’s quarters, leaving him staring at the silver surface, wondering how long he would be able to keep his Decepticons in check with their pride at Elattoma and glee at Prime’s humiliation. Would it be long enough for them to realise that if they wanted Cybertron rebuilt, they needed Autobot help, or would he find himself and his sparklet the target of more assassination attempts, by Starscream and whoever had grown tired as well?

Megatron could only hope for the best and use Prime and Elattoma to best effect. Once Prime had been to the medbay, he would take them both to the mess and make sure every Decepticon got a good look at how attached Elattoma was to Prime’s refineries. Prime would hate it, every moment of it. Much like he probably hated having to care for Elattoma.

Megatron did not care. Rebuilding Cybertron, like everything else, came with a price, and so did having a sparklet. Megatron was more than willing to pay whatever the price might be. Even if it meant letting Optimus Prime raise his sparklet for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s some background information about what’s happening:
> 
> After defeating the Autobots, the Decepticons have a celebratory party that pretty quickly devolves into an orgy, during which Megatron has sex with several of them and ends up sparked without knowing by whom (he isn’t much interested in finding out, either). Knowing he will need Autobot skills to put Cybertron to rights, he has given strict orders that the Autobots are not to be hurt or abused unless they try to escape, and is in the process of figuring out where to put each of them and how to stop his Decepticons from taking their revenge when he becomes aware of his pregnancy. Since he knows he will have his hands full with Cybertron, he pretty quickly makes the decision to have someone else raise his sparkling, and since they are conveniently sitting in his brig already, why not use one of the Autobots instead of a Decepticon? Optimus is chosen for the reasons already mentioned, and at first he is very unhappy about his new “job” (although admittedly relieved it doesn’t turn out what he expected it to be). Over time, however, he finds himself first falling in love with Elattoma and then with his carrier, and in the end, is very happy to add his own contribution to the effort of repopulating Cybertron.
> 
> Like I said, I don’t have the time or patience to turn this into a longer fic right now, but if anyone else finds themselves so inclined – you’re very welcome to :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cybertron has been rebuilt, Optimus knows that the price he paid was worth it. Megatron cannot say the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, have the chapter I am terribly embarrassed at having written ^^' And be warned, it is a very abrupt switch in tone and atmosphere.

“Elattoma, get back here. Don’t wake Optimus.”

It was too late. Optimus suppressed an ex-vent as he listened to Megatron retrieving his youngling from the berthroom and carrying him back to the common area. Even now, with the coding long since removed, Optimus still reacted to Elattoma’s field expressing any emotion that was even in the slightest negative. Unshuttering one optic, he watched as Megatron returned Elattoma to his datapad and sat back down himself, keeping one servo on Elattoma’s helm. Of course, that was what had woken him; the need for physical contact. And Megatron, lost in whatever he had been reading, had not realised in time to keep Elattoma from wandering off to get his cuddles from Optimus instead.

Optimus shuttered the optic and ex-vented deeply. Did he want to get up?

A kick to his internals informed him that he was not the only one who had woken and he pushed himself up, rubbing his face to dispel some of the lingering drowsiness. Two pairs of red optics flickered up at the noise of mesh sheets being moved and Elattoma abandoned his post beside his carrier in favour of returning to the berthroom and snuggling against the dent in Optimus’ plating.

“You’re awake!” he said happily, and Optimus could tell from his field that all was well in Elattoma’s world now.

Not so in Megatron’s, who looked distinctly disgruntled at having been left behind. Optimus responded by raising an optic ridge, the message clear even as he gently petted Elattoma the way he loved it.

Megatron put his datapad aside and ambled into the berthroom as well. “Look who is finally back amongst the functioning,” he drawled and Elattoma giggled.

“I would have gotten up with you if your sparklet had not decided to keep me up half the night,” Optimus replied and Elattoma pressed a kiss to the dent and petted it, optics shining.

“Bad sparklet.”

Megatron cocked an optic ridge. “I remember well what it was like carrying a certain someone,” he rumbled. “And also that he had a tendency to wake up when every normal bot went to berth.”

“Much like these days.” That got Optimus a dark look. He ignored it as he slipped from the berth and took Elattoma’s servo. “Have you had your morning energon?”

“Prime, I am not that incapable of caring for a youngling, of course he had his morning energon!”

“Of course you aren’t,” Optimus said mildly even as he made for the dispenser. “I was merely asking because I would like some company when I have mine.”

Megatron followed them and watched as Optimus prepared his own energon, Elattoma still firmly attached to his rather generous waist. Optimus concealed a smile and made for the sitting area, Elattoma almost crawling into his lap once he sat down. Megatron looked distinctly annoyed and Optimus had to fight another smile. “I am surprised you are still here,” he said to Elattoma instead. “I thought you were going over to Soundwave today?”

Elattoma pressed his helm to the dent. “I can hear him move.”

Megatron cocked an optic ridge at Optimus, looking annoyed and amused at the same time.

“Elattoma?” Optimus insisted, voice a tad sterner now.

The youngling narrowed his optics. “I want to stay here with you. I don’t want to miss it!”

Optimus tried not to ex-vent or laugh or roll his optics. “Elattoma, I will not go into emergence today, and Soundwave has been waiting for quite some time to spend time with you again.”

Now Elattoma looked distinctly disgruntled and Optimus did almost laugh at the sight. He resembled Megatron so much that it was like looking at a shrunken version of him pouting. “Please? Soundwave will be so very disappointed if you do not visit him,” he prodded instead and Elattoma gave in with a deep ex-vent and slid off Optimus’ legs.

“But we’re not going far!” he announced, half glaring at his carrier before he left their habsuite.

“Enjoy yourself!” Optimus called after him and then looked at Megatron, frowning. “He picks up these bad habits from you.”

Megatron smirked at him. “Stubbornness? I hardly think you should be talking, Optimus Prime, for I believe that is a trait the two of us share.” He smoothly stood and sat down beside Optimus, his optics on the dent. “Now …”

Optimus let his helm fall back. “Primus, what is it with the two of you and my belly?”

A strong, warm hand started moving over the plating. “He gets his good taste in bots from me.”

“Does he now,” Optimus replied dryly, taking another sip instead of trying to detach Megatron from the dent. It was as hopeless an endeavour as detaching Elattoma from his refineries used to be. “Says the bot who cannot even remember who sparked him.”

“If I had known I would get sparked, my choice would have been severely restricted.” Megatron’s other servo started caressing Optimus’ thigh. “I am still hoping it was not Motormaster.”

“You and me both.” Optimus put the empty cube aside and watched as Megatron leant down and nuzzled the dent. “Did he give you any trouble?”

Megatron shook his helm, still busy with the dent. Optimus ex-vented a silent sigh of relief. Megatron loved his youngling dearly, but the long time Optimus had spent looking after Elattoma had left its mark. As far as Elattoma was concerned, Optimus was his carrier and Megatron his sire. It did not help that Megatron was clumsy and insecure around his own youngling, whom he had seen little of during the reconstruction of Cybertron, even when he started spending more time with Optimus and Elattoma to disguise the fact that he was asking Optimus for advice. It would not have gone down well with the Decepticons, most of which had needed a long time to come to terms with living and working beside Autobots. Knowing that they were slaves had helped quench their thirst for revenge, but the process had by no means been smooth, even with the Autobots unable to refuse their cooperation. It was probably a good thing that it was Optimus who had gotten sparked first after Megatron announced their intention to bond. Optimus had not forgotten, nor could he ever forget, just how much the Decepticons had loved watching him walk around with Elattoma suckling at his chest.

In retrospect, he had to give Megatron that it had been a very efficient way of appeasing Decepticon tempers. Back then, he had hated how Megatron paraded him around. It seemed like such a distant memory now, though, and he was fairly certain that the second time around, Megatron would certainly not be the one insisting that Optimus feed their sparklet in public.

“Why did he go into the berthroom?” Megatron interrupted his musings, frowning at the dent. Optimus rested a servo on his helm.

“He wanted to be cuddled.”

Megatron frowned more severely. “He could simply have asked.”

“He did,” Optimus replied, gently stroking the helm. “With his field.”

Now Megatron scowled. It had never sat well with him to be anything less than perfect at something, and it annoyed him to no extent that he had such trouble pinpointing what his youngling needed. Optimus smiled. “You will get better at it the more time you spend with him and the little one.”

Megatron grunted, looking neither convinced nor happy. Optimus wanted to ex-vent again, but suppressed it. If there was one thing he really hoped, it was that their sparklet would not inherit Megatron’s obliviousness. He had his servos full with his two clueless Decepticons as it was, one unable to pick up on the tells and the other too shy around his carrier to ask openly for what he needed.

“You will learn,” he said, trying to nuzzle Megatron’s helm where it rested on top of his dent. “As I did.” And what a learning curve that had been, from _never held a sparkling before_ to _full-time carer._ Megatron at least had the benefit of being able to copy what Optimus did.

There was no reply from Megatron, instead a servo insinuated itself between Optimus’ thighs. He jolted, then cocked an optic ridge. “Really?”

Megatron smirked up at him. “You do look rather nice like this,” he purred. “And Elattoma is with Soundwave.”

Which translated to “Elattoma will not be hanging onto your arm, leg, smokestack or any other frame part he can reach for longer than ten kliks”. Optimus felt heat pool behind his interface panel. Technically, it was Megatron’s own fault that they very rarely got time alone. He was the one who had made Optimus Elattoma’s primary carer. Then again, neither of them had expected their relationship to develop into this. Megatron certainly could not have predicted that his own sparklet would be in the way of his courtship of Optimus. And, oh, Elattoma had most certainly put a lot of effort into being in the way once he caught on to the fact that his carrier had developed an interest in his Optimus Prime as well. It had been as entertaining as frustrating to watch Megatron compete with a small version of himself for the right of being around Optimus.

Although it was probably fortunate that Megatron’s contestant for Optimus’ favours had been his own sparklet, otherwise there might have been energon spilt in the process. Such as it was, Megatron had only had to worm his way into the affections of his own sparklet.

The Autobots thought it had been hilarious. The Decepticons, including Megatron, were still trying their hardest to forget about it, especially about the occasion Elattoma had caught Megatron with his servos on Optimus’ refineries. The sparklet had been very clear that excuse you, he had already laid claim to those, and _would Carrier kindly take his servos off what was his!_

To be fair, Optimus was trying to forget about that particular occasion as well. He had grown used enough to the stares to not care any longer who saw his refineries, but that did not mean he enjoyed other bots fighting over them. Unfortunately, explaining to Elattoma that it was very much Optimus’ decision who got to touch his refineries had resulted in a veritable symphony of misery delivered in audial-shattering wails. Such displays were, fortunately, a thing of the past by now, and carrier and sparklet had agreed that they could share Optimus peacefully between the two (soon-to-be three) of them, but Elattoma was still very physically affectionate and very hesitant to simply attach himself to his real carrier like he did with Optimus.

As a result, the opportunities for touches of the not-youngling-appropriate variety were few and far between. Megatron smirked as Optimus’ vents hitched, and stroked a digit over his interface panel. “Well, Optimus Prime? Can I interest you in returning to our berth?”

Optimus cleared his intake. “You can.”

The red optics darkened. “Good,” Megatron growled. “Because I have a hunch that once this one is here, we’ll have even less time to ourselves.”

Optimus laughed as he stood and walked back to the berth he had only so recently abandoned. “Who said in their last speech that we needed to repopulate Cybertron?”

“I didn’t mean to imply that we were going to do all the work!”

Optimus raised an optic ridge and sat down on the berth. “Well, I am for sure not going to do all the work of raising them this time around.”

Megatron moved above him quickly, optics smoldering. “That is why I put this ridiculous committee in charge after you sparked.”

More heat pooled and the sparklet inside him reacted by treating his internals to another kick. Optimus ignored it as best as he could, knowing it only reacted to his rising charge. “Ridiculous? I wonder what Starscream and Prowl would have to say if I told them -”

Megatron shut him up with a kiss, his servos raking down his sides and making Optimus shiver. While the dent was was not extensive – nothing like the ridiculously huge bellies human women sported when carrying –, it was big enough to stop Megatron from lying down on top of him. Instead he half knelt above Optimus, offering ample opportunity to feel him up. Optimus was not about to turn down the invitation and replied in kind, finding transformation seams and cables that made little sparks flicker underneath Megatron’s outer plating while he relished the heat seeping from the other frame. Megatron shuddered when he found a particularly sensitive cable and tweaked it gently. “We will start looking for a sparklet-sitter as soon as the little one can do without you,” he grunted, then bit down on Optimus’ neck cabling, making him arch.

“Oh! And who, do you think, might qualify? Elattoma is very picky – mmh!”

“He gets that from you.” Megatron dipped lower and licked a broad stripe over the seam keeping his chestplates closed. Optimus huffed a laugh.

“Me? And how, do you think, did he catch part of my code?”

Megatron smirked up at him and nudged the seam again. “I have my suspicions. Open up, Prime.”

Half amused, more aroused, Optimus complied and Megatron’s optics narrowed in delight when the refineries appeared, soft and considerably bigger than they used to be. They had never returned to their original size after Elattoma had stopped needing the refined energon, but Optimus did not mind. Experimentation had proven that the increased size had its uses, and Megatron had proven a very enthusiastic participant in said experiments. Why, he had practically volunteered!

Optimus could not help the chuckle at the memory and then moaned as Megatron caught a nozzle between his denta and flicked his glossa across it. He slid a servo down and cupped Megatron’s interface panel, hot and moist to the touch, and shuddered at the implications. “Someone is eager.”

Megatron let go for a moment and locked optics with him. “Someone has been ignored in favour of a certain youngling for too long.”

The panel snapped back and Optimus’ digits made contact with the soft mesh of Megatron’s valve. His vents hitched again as he stroked it, revelling in the wet slide. “You have my full attention now.”

Megatron smirked, triumphant, and rocked against the digits. “Good. Now, I would like attention from a very specific part of your frame, if you don’t mind.”

Optimus chuckled again even as he retracted his own panel and then gasped when Megatron pinched one nozzle. “Oh!”

The next moment, a hot glossa was working on the tip of his recessed spike. Optimus startled, servos landing on the back of Megatron’s helm. “Oh, that is – it really wouldn’t do if you got sparked now …”

Megatron raised his helm and smirked at him. “Then I suggest you lock that transfluid tank of yours, because I really want that spike.”

His core temperature rose by at least two degrees and his cooling fans, which so far had been purring away at only increased speed, started roaring. Megatron grinned and returned to the task of coaxing Optimus’ spike out of its housing with a single-minded dedication that informed Optimus that no, he wasn’t joking, and no, they weren’t getting out of this berth before Megatron had gotten what he wanted.

He might as well. Especially since Ratchet had been very clear on what he expected them not to do until emergence, and as long as he made sure his transfluid tank stayed locked, they were safe. The experience wasn’t quite as satisfying, then again …

Megatron lost no time at all in sucking the pressurising spike into his mouth, Optimus moaning and gasping with the loving attention to detail Megatron lavished on it. His servos scrabbled for purchase, one clinging to the sheet, the other on his dent as if to calm the sparklet inside down. Then it slipped up and Optimus pinched his own nozzle as his back arched into a particularly hard suck. “Oh! Megatron!”

Red optics appeared, glowing bright with lust. “Yes, Optimus dearest?”

“Let me up.” The red optics blazed and Megatron growled deep as he grabbed Optimus’ arm and helped him position himself, then bury himself deep with one thrust.

Megatron moaned, locking his legs around Optimus’ waist, careful not to squeeze too hard. “You are an image for the gods,” he purred, both servos going to the dent and caressing it as Optimus rocked inside him. “I pity everyone who never got to see you like this.”

“Fragging you?” Optimus gasped out, slowly grinding his hips against Megatron’s, shuddering with the tight grip on his spike and the charge dancing between their arrays.

He got a smirk. “Fragging me with your plating denting out and those beautiful refineries on display.”

Optimus huffed a laugh, pulling out and slowly sliding himself back in, making sure Megatron could feel every ridge and node on his spike. The valve clenched around him and Megatron’s servos grasped for purchase on his frame. “And you would have me believe you would be willing to share?”

Megatron moaned instead of replying as Optimus ground against his array again, rocking his own hips. Optimus leant forward, bracing himself over Megatron, the dent just so touching his plating, and started thrusting faster. He could feel his own overload approaching, and by the squeeze of Megatron’s thighs, he wasn’t going to take long either, so Optimus found Megatron’s main energon line and started sucking on it. Servos stroked along his sides, his back, then Megatron wrapped his arms around Optimus’ neck and started meeting the thrusts, chasing his overload with abandon.

Optimus groaned, burying his face in Megatron’s neck, relishing the strong arms around him, holding him tight, the equally strong thighs, keeping him close, and he thrust one, two, three more times before charge crackled and his overload ripped through him. Almost without noticing, he bit down on the energon line and Megatron jerked, shouting his own overload.

They sprawled together, Megatron somehow retaining the presence of processor to roll them over on their side so Optimus would not land on their dent. Armour ticked as it slowly returned to normal temperature and Optimus nuzzled against Megatron’s face. “Satisfied with my attentions?”

Megatron hummed and unshuttered his optics. “Do you know what date is today?” he asked in a complete non-sequitur, and Optimus stared at him.

“Yes?”

Megatron pulled him closer, smirking. “But apparently you fail to see the significance.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure what is special about today? Other than that it’s two days after Elattoma’s emergence anniversary?”

“Mmh.” Megatron was still looking at him expectantly, one servo back on the dent and stroking. Optimus smiled helplessly. “It’s your anniversary?”

Megatron snorted, amused. “No. It’s the anniversary of you becoming Elattoma’s substitute carrier.”

That – that was actually true. Optimus had simply never thought about it. But yes, of course, Elattoma had barely been two days old when Megatron had entrusted him into Optimus’ (involuntary, hesitant, less-than-optimal) care.

“And is there a specific reason you are bringing it up now?” he asked instead of voicing that and Megatron was quiet for a moment, gazing at him.

“This morning, when he woke up and came looking for you, I remembered when Soundwave brought him in,” he said then, abruptly. “But you were still in recharge and he looked so – lost, for a moment.”

Optimus pulled him closer. “He admires you, Megatron. That is why he is so hesitant to touch you. But he does love you, and he is thrilled every time you hug him. I wish you weren’t equally hesitant to take the first step.”

Megatron ex-vented, his optics darting to the dent. “I am not willing to miss out on this one,” he said, voice fierce and Optimus felt his spark swell when he caught on to the whole meaning of that sentence.

He leant in, kissing Megatron long and slow.

“You won’t have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more background information about what happened in between the first and the second chapter:
> 
> Megatron does actually enslave all of the Autobots, but sticks to the terms he has outlined to Optimus in the first chapter (i.e. all that is required of the Autobots is their cooperation in the rebuilding of Cybertron and they cannot harm Decepticons unless they are attacked – for those who are interested, yes, sexual harassment does count as an attack from Megatron’s point of view, so while it does happen, the Autobots can actually defend themselves against it, not least via emergency frequency straight to Soundwave). Optimus is mostly stuck raising Elattoma and doesn’t get much of a say in what is happening, but is permitted to see his Autobots, and Megatron does occasionally ask him for advice. There are, of course, some attempts at mutiny, Optimus has to protect Elattoma a few times and somewhere along the way, Megatron and Optimus fall in love, much to Elattoma’s initial dismay (Optimus is his!). By the time the second chapter is taking place, the slave coding has been removed from every Autobot, since the reconstruction is completed and friendships have developed between the two factions, enough that Megatron is fairly confident that the Autobots won’t be in danger once he retracts his ownership of them. He has also stepped somewhat back from leadership now that Optimus is sparked, because he has found to his great dismay that despite being Elattoma’s real carrier, his sparkling likes Optimus better than him.
> 
> This could be a long, long story and if you want to take it and run with it, go ahead and enjoy yourself, because I for sure can’t spare the time right now …


End file.
